


naughty

by threadoflife



Series: sherlock ficlets [14]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, I Don't Even Know, I suppose, I'm Going to Hell, M/M, Porn, mycroft with a beard, so now here's mycroft dressed as santa claus in assless chaps, this is all because of TFP, which greg likes obviously, yes this is crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 18:46:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9398153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threadoflife/pseuds/threadoflife
Summary: Greg has been naughty.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i can't even 
> 
> look, i have no explanation
> 
> it started like this http://wssh-watson.tumblr.com/post/155897785262/oh-hai-sherlock
> 
> don't look at me

It doesn’t begin with a game. It’s serious from the start.

Even when—yes, even when Mycroft enters the room as he does. Greg looks him up and down and can’t believe the sight: Mycroft Holmes, with his slightly ginger hair, wearing a thick, bushy beard that reaches down to his clavicle. Trust Mycroft to take care of the details. It’s a matching ginger beard, and Greg never wanted to be more appalled than he is now, but somehow it doesn’t come.

Which may have something to do with the rest of Mycroft’s attire.

He’s practically nude. His arms and torso and belly are uncovered, just long stretches of white skin. His feet are bare, too.

His legs aren’t.

He’s wearing tight, bright red leather trousers. He’s wearing _chaps_. They enclose his waist like a waistband but leave patches of pale skin exposed just to the sides of his groin, where ginger, coarse hair emerges, framing a sizeable, excited cock that makes the leather bulge obscenely. The light of the lamp above is reflected in a curve of dull light, almost cupping his bulge.

“Do you like it?” Myroft’s voice is deep and teasing. Greg’s eyes snap up to his face, torn from his mesmerised contemplation of Mycroft’s nether regions. “I had it… _tailored_.”

With a wink, Mycroft turns around.

Greg’s mouth runs dry.

There, right in front of him, are Mycroft’s luscious, generous arse cheeks. Bare. Separated by a thin, tight line of red leather. Framed as they are, they look even fuller, rounder than usual.

Greg’s mouth floods with saliva.

“Do you like it?” Mycroft asks again, glancing back at Greg coquettishly.

“Do I… do I like it?” Greg clears his throat. His voice has broken. “Fuck, Mycroft. I _love_ it.”

Those arse cheeks disappear from Greg’s eyes as Mycroft turns around. “Good.” Mycroft’s smile turns sharp, predatory. He raises an eyebrow. (How you can only raise one eyebrow at a time, Greg doesn’t know. He’s practiced extensively before a mirror. For hours. He can’t do it.) “But first…”

Greg is afraid to ask, but Mycroft is never playing games in the bedroom. So he curls his hands into fists in his lap and continues staring up calmly at Mycroft. “Yes. First?”

“Undress.” The command is swift and no-nonsense. “Trousers off. Pants, too. Face-down on the bed.”

“… and why?”

“Because my sword wants to play a while, at first,” Mycroft says mildly. “You know that.”

And fuck him, _fuck him_ , but Greg has to ask. Before he can get the sword, Greg has to ask for it. That was one of the first rules Mycroft taught him.

Deep breath. In, out. Greg makes himself say, “Which sword?” and he’s proud of how he sounds significantly less hysterical than he did in their first encounters like this.

“Atta boy.”

Christ. In his trousers, Greg’s cock twitches. Greg closes his eyes. _Seriously?_

“Good boy, Greg. You’re a good boy.”

In his trousers, Greg’s cock grows. Apparently, yes—seriously.

The thing he is most grateful for, though, is that there are only two swords: Mycroft’s cock, and—

“Brolly it will be,” Mycroft says from somewhere in the room. “I’ll get him.”

Yeah. His umbrella.

Thank God there aren’t more phallic-shaped objects around.

Thank God there are only two Holmes siblings.

Thank God that Greg, when Mycroft returns with his umbrella and says, “You naughty boy, Santa is here with your punishment,” is so into it that he just wordlessly turns around, presses his hard cock into the mattress, and offers Santa his arse like the naughty boy he is.

**Author's Note:**

> look do you really think this is my fault
> 
> have you seen tfp
> 
> wtf
> 
>  


End file.
